


The Clone in the Back Room

by M_Logolepsy



Series: your skin stretched over another (aka garfield is a bastard man who deserves no rights) [1]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: CURSED FIC, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Demon Deals, Gen, and there's some blood and descriptions of murder fantasies in here., i'd say crack but like. garfield is just on crack yknow?, no beta we die like men, not super graphic depictions of violence but like garfield is upsetting, yknow if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 15:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19379245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Logolepsy/pseuds/M_Logolepsy
Summary: Garfield is a master businessman. And what good businessman doesn't keep a clone of a local adventure stored in his back room for various nefarious purposes?AKA: 5 times Garfield planned to use Magnus's body for evil and one time he actually used it for good





	The Clone in the Back Room

**Author's Note:**

> People i blame for this fic: griffin mcelroy, the entire tfw discord but especially kat, emi, sanvi, and vesper, myself
> 
> i’d like to apologize to everyone who reads this fic because aw man, gamers. there was NOTHING GOOD he could be using that body for and since we’ll never know, i’m taking this space and i’m about fucking ready to play!
> 
> also i literally banged this out in one night with no editing. so. my bad.

Listen, when Garfield, the greatest salesman in all the multiverse, initially purchased a cloning chamber for himself, his intentions were perfectly innocent: he wanted to be able to fake his own death whenever he pleased. You know, a normal desire! However, the mark of a good businessman lies in their ability to adapt to potentially profitable proposal if and when it crosses their path. 

And, of course, Garfield is the greatest salesman in all the multiverse, and Magnus Burnsides is an extraordinary opportunity. 

According to his research- a good businessman always does his research!- Magnus Burnsides happened onto that plane of existence practically out of nowhere. No one knows where he was born or where his family is or if they’re living at all. The only people who ever knew him were either apart of a secret agency on the moon or died in the rubble of a long forgotten town. Better yet, he was physically flawless and very trusting. He, of course, does what any rational businessman would do with such an opportunity. 

“Oh no, oh no dear, I meant in blood!” he calls, stopping Magnus from signing the shield he was trading him in sharpie. 

Magnus doesn’t even look concerned. “Oh, yeah. That too. Sure.” 

Without even a question of the Deals Warlock’s motivations, he nicks the tip of his finger with his axe and smears it across the surface of the shield in a vague approximation of his name. 

He can hardly hide his excitement as Taako and Merle’s expressions sour with disgust. “It won’t be in mint condition, then,” Merle points out. 

“Ohohh, I don’t need it to be in mint condition,” Garfield croons, eyes as wide as his grin as he takes the shield. 

It seems that the danger of handing over your genetic components without any regard for whose hands they may be falling into finally clicks in the fighter’s thick skull, as he asks, “Oh no. Am I gonna die?”

Garfield cackles. “No, dear.” 

The second the rather chaotic party is out of his fantasy establishment, he scrapes the blood off of his shield and into the cloning chamber. It stands unchanged for a moment, the blood slowly dispersing through the water below. Garfield holds his breath- is it not enough? Does it need more? 

The entire chamber begins to pulse with necromantic magic, and the green light it emits shines in white of Garfield’s cat-like grin. 

1\. 

His immediate plan is simple. Elegant. 

When he inevitably bleeds the moon base dry of all the wealth it has to offer him, he will simply fake his own death and transfer his soul to Magnus’s body. 

It’s a fantastic plan. The form he holds now is nothing special. Probably not even in his top ten corporal forms. Leaving it behind, he not only would gain a new physical form to trick- er, lure in customers previously spurned by how incredible his dealmaking skills are but Garfield and the memory of the continents he’s banned from would disappear with him thanks to the Rites of Remembrance and the Voidfish. He’d be able to take his incredible businessmanship back to Greater Faerune at long last. 

So, he runs the Fantasy Costco as usual and he waits.

2\. 

Except, word starts to get around about the newest team of Reclaimers. Apparently, it seems as though the Director herself has taken an interest in the new recruits. Word on the ol’ moonbase says that these three Reclaimers are actually successful! Not only have they actually seen success in bringing back some of the Relics, but they’ve completely resisted their charms. 

This catches Garfield’s attention. Of course it does! He’s an incredible businessman! And what businessman worth his salt wouldn’t covet a set of seven legendary items capable of bending the very fabric of reality itself? It’s just good sense, really. 

The fact, though, that Magnus Burnsides, the rather simple charlatan that handed blood to a Deals Warlock without a second thought, was able to best the allure of these Grand Relics is… intriguing. 

Avi’s grin falters as he watches the brilliance of a new plan dawn on Garfield’s features. “Oh no. Oh gods, why are you so interested in that?” 

“You’re a smart man, Avi. An engineer!” Garfield says. 

Avi winces. “Oh gods. Are you going to murder me? Why are you like this?” 

His fear may be delicious but that particular delicacy simply pails to the prospects that picking his brain could provide. “So then, why are you not a Reclaimer?” 

“I- Fuck, why do I shop here?” Avi whines. 

“Because you’d fall to the corruption, same as every one of us,” Garfield answers, blazing bravely onward in the face of the lack of cooperation. 

“I hate where you’re going with this so much.” 

“But Magnus! Magnus can resist its temptations? Clearly resisting the relics must not be a trait of the mind or the soul but of the body.” 

Avi’s frown only deepens. “Don’t dunk on Magnus, man, he’s actually a really intelligent dude.” 

Garfield’s face twists into a horrific smile. “Thank you very kindly for your information, dear Avi. Thank you veeeeeery kindly.” 

“Listen, as much as I absolutely hate the fact that you’re using me for your fucked schemes, is there any way that that could get me a discount?” 

His grin doesn’t waver. “Absolutely not.” 

The plan remains much the same, but now with a crucial twist: Once the Relics are all collected together on the moon base, he’ll destroy his current form, place his soul in the empty vessel Magnus Burnsides, nab the Relics, and finally reach the ascension a businessman of his caliber deserves! It’s foolproof, and all he needs to do is wait for the six Relics to be collected. 

So, he runs the Fantasy Costco as usual and waits. 

3\. 

Oh, Magnus Burnsides. It was like someone had wiped the memory of blood and necromancy-related safety straight from his poor mind. 

“A pleasure doing business with you!” Garfield cheers as he ogles the bloodied chest plate Magnus had just given him. 

“That seems an awful lot for a 25 gold piece rapier,” Magnus says, a shrug the only sign of concern he seems to show. “I'm just saying.”

Garfield gives him his best innocent act. “It’s just blood, homie.” 

“Doesn’t grow back,” Magnus mutters as he exits.

After they leave, he hurriedly scrapes the new blood in a spare vial, careful to get every drop. 

There’s even more this time. Double than what was on the shield! And better yet, the chest plate has his sweat, his skin flakes, and even a few hairs on it! It’s a genetic gold mine! 

Once Garfield finishes collecting as much genetic material as possible, he looks over his collection. It’s a small hoard! He counts the different vials and considers how much the cloning chamber requires. With all of this, he could make far more than just one more Magnus. He could have two- no, four? Maybe even six? He runs the calculations in his head, and yes, this is far and away enough for at least six Magnus clones.

Oh, the possibilities! With the one already growing, that’s seven Magnuses! Seven empty shells perfectly ready for whatever his business whims have for them! And with Magnus’s increasingly endearing lack of necromantic know-how, who knows how many more clones he could produce? 

The plans spin in his brain like a typhoon of deals. The possibilities are truly endless- an small army, perhaps? An endless supply of new vessels ready for him to use? 

No- No! They’ll have to go after the Animus Bell, won’t they? And with his growing collection of Magnuses, he’ll be able to take it for himself. And with it…

The plan: He will kill himself off, transfer his soul to Mangus-Vessel I, steal the Animus Bell once it arrives on the moon base, use it to split his soul into as many pieces as he wants, and spread his consciousness across an army of Magni! Oh, and even with only the material he has now, he could successfully create a small army of himself, each able to wield a Relic! If he plays his cards right, he could dominate the entire planar system- no, the entire multiverse!

His cackles ring through the empty Fantasy Costco as he stores the material in a safe area. As soon as the Animus Bell arrives on the moon base, his reign of terror will begin. Nothing left to do but wait. 

So, he runs the Fantasy Costco and waits. 

4\. 

Magnus Burnsides is the gift that just keeps on giving. He’s a businessman’s dream. Somehow, some reason, the Voidfish has taken a liking to him in particular. 

Oh, if he could get the Voidfish’s trust, along with the Relics and his mass of Magni, he would be a god. Unlimited ability to alter the fabric of reality and wipe the minds of the people living in it to believe that the world had always been this way? It was truly impossibly perfect. 

The plan: Become Magnus, steal Relics, steal Voidfish, ascend. It was too simple. 

And better yet, Magnus was back to further supply his growing army- and as always, he was willing to make a deal. 

“How about just a little, just a tiny little scraping? And you can do it yourself. Just a few hairs off those beautiful 'burns, what do you say, bud?” Garfield asks, practically euphoric at Magni 8 and possibly even 9 falling into his paws. 

Magnus, his favorite customer, agrees without a hitch as always. As the three thirsty men or whatever they called themselves wrapped up their purchases, Garfield felt as though the world was already in his grasp. He would prove to the world that he was the greatest businessman of all time without a shadow of a doubt. He was unstoppable. Infallible! Everything he could possibly need was falling into place- the Bell was the next Relic on the hunt and the last one that needed to be brought to the base. The first clone was nearly finished! He was so close to victory, so close that he could almost taste it. He would rule. 

So, he runs the Fantasy Costco as usual and wa- 

“I have one more transaction I’d like to conduct,” Taako announces, turning on his heel just as the sliding doors swish open to accommodate his exit.

“Okay,” Garfield answers, sliding the hairs under the counter for safe keeping.

“Garfield?” 

“Yes?” 

Taako grins a brilliant smile. “I have something that I think is really gonna interest you.” 

5\. 

Agony. 

The weight of the shame on his shoulders crushes him like the fantasy world upon fantasy Atlas. 

He stares down at the glorified rock he’d just traded his prized possession for. That’s all it was. The Slicer of T’pire-Weir Isles was a fucking rock.

He throws it across the room in a rage, uncaring as it shatters against a distant shelf. 

60,000 gold for a rock that he’d just sold for 900 gold. 

He collapses to the ground, knees pounding as they hit the linoleum. His claws clench into fists that he slams beneath him. This has shaken him, shaken him to his very core. 

He thought himself perfect. Intelligent. Infallible. A businessman. And yet, for all his lofty goals what did he have to show for it? A fucking rock. A rock and a clone. 

The clone. It’d be done soon. All of his plans… But what was the point? How could he convince the world of his godhood if he knew in his soul what a failure he really was? Taako had strode in with a dazzling smile and talent in grifting and managed to get him- Garfield! The Deals Warlock!- to thank him for his scam! He’s not even going to use the Flaming Raging Poisoning Sword of Doom! He’s a fucking wizard, what use does he have for it?! It was just a game to him, just a joke! Just like Garfield….

No. He was no god. No businessman. But Magnus… Magnus was a fighter. With a level in Rogue and a proficiency in ripping arms from torsos. He was nearly ready now, and Garfield had tricks up his sleeve. Why waste a body by putting his useless soul into it when he could control it remotely? 

Yes, yes, the plan? The plan was he’d send Magnus after him. He’d breed a personal assassin. He’d tear Taako limb from limb, reclaim his cherished, overpowered weapon from his corpse. He’d bring back his arms for Garfield to keep. He won’t even give Taako the dignity of being cloned to be used as his next vessel. No. He’ll sell his arms for a gold each at the next Fantasy Costco! He’d destroy him. He’d ruin him completely, just as he had done to Garfield himself! It was the only way. It made too much sense! It was perfect. Taako, and his mercantile wits, destroyed by the clone of one of his dear friends. 

And the clone was almost finished! He would get his revenge. He would. 

+1 

The day of reckoning was finally upon them. The clone was done. Even with his less than stellar cloning machine and its impossibly long incubation period, he had his Magnus. The looming apocalypse above may have decided his departure from the moon base and this Fantasy Costco, but it did not deter his bloodlust. 

Today was the day. Taako would die. 

And yet, Garfield feels as empty as his store. 

Low and behold, the man of the day strolls through the automatic doors, but Garfield doesn’t have it in him to gloat about his impending doom or even give him a catlike grin. The world was ending, but his self-worth had already been murdered long before this moment. “Oh, uh, we’re closed. Thank you for coming to Fantasy Costco though. Fantasy Costco, where all your dreams come true, got a deal for you. Alright. See you later!” he tells Taako, Merle, and their weird mannequin morosely. 

“Uh, hold on just a second kemosabe,” Taako tells him. 

Merle points to the front window. “The sign says open 24 hours.” 

Garfield doesn’t even bother going over to the front of the store, instead wandering lamely through the empty aisles. What was even the point? “Well...that doesn’t really take into account the….apocalypse, so I’m gonna…” he calls behind him, groaning as Taako follows after him. He turns to him and says, “I’ve gotta hit the ol’ road, Jack. But, uh, the deals-” 

“What - what’s happening - wait, what’s happening?” Taako asks. 

“I’m not, uh, 100% sure, but look outside! It’s clearly fucking pretty about to pop off in a pretty bad way out there. And it’s also, I mean what’s - also what’s the point of…” His voice cracks on the last word and he feels the shame seeping through his bones. 

He realizes that killing him wouldn’t be worth it. It dawns on him like the sun in the morning would if the sky wasn’t black and opalescent. There’s no point. He isn’t a businessman, he is a sham, and bloodshed wouldn’t return that lost fire in his soul. He was nothing. 

There’s no point in trying to play it off anymore. “Damn it, Taako, the last time you came in here you thwarted me in a test of mercantile wits that I’ll never recover from, so my days as a shopkeep are over. I’ve been humiliated. I’m out of the game! I need to go hole up somewhere and just try to start a new life I guess, cause apparently vending isn’t my game.”

Taako stares at him for a long, long moment. For a while, he says nothing. Garfield feels like he’s staring into his soul. What could possibly be happening in the whims of that magnificent, mercantile mind? 

“Listen, uh, Garfield, uh boom-” 

“Yeeeees?” he says, but his heart isn’t in it. 

Taako puts a hand on his shoulder. “Just one mome. Uh, can- listen, I need something from you, before-” 

“I told you, my trading and selling days are over. I’m a joke!”

“I know. I understand what you’re saying,” Taako says, obviously trying to comfort him in his time of need. 

It’s no use, can’t he see he’s a joke? “I’m a sham!” 

“I understand. Listen, I’ve gotten-” 

Garfield hangs his head in shame, staring down at the cheap tile. “I’m a weiner boy.” 

Taako sighs, and to Garfield’s ears, it sounds real and genuine. He may be a hapless merchant, but he knows that he is smart- that can’t be a liar’s sigh. “I’ve gotten beaten too, before, and I know it stings.” 

Garfield doesn’t move his head, but Taako’s words truly move him. Taako, the world’s greatest businessman… has gotten beaten before? If a grifter as powerful as he could be bested…. Perhaps there was hope for him yet. 

“...but I’m gonna need Magnus’s blood. He died, and we would just really like something to remember him by.” 

His head snaps up from its shameful dangle so quickly Taako flinches back. “You need…. Magnus’s blood?” 

Taako doesn’t say anything, eyes wide and face pinched in… horror? No. No! That was the face of a man that believed in him! It shifted back to a smile, uneasy with how much faith for Garfield he had in him obviously, and Garfield knew that this wasn’t just any deal- no. It was a deal between two true businessmen. 

“Hmmhmmhmmm! Delightful!” he cries, genuinely touched. “Well, maybe we’ll do one last trade. What will you give me for it?” 

Taako tries to give him a 5x7 of his headshot, but Garfield knows that he’s only testing him. “Look at this! And guess what, I’ll personalize it with your first… name. Just to you! ‘To my friend…’”

And they are truly friends, aren’t they? Garfield laughs goodnaturedly at his friend’s joke. “  
I’m disappointed, you so thoroughly out-out-vendored me in our last transaction, I thought, uh, I thought you were hot shit. I thought I’d finally found somebody who could stand up to my test of mercantile powers, but apparently, I was wrong.” 

Taako’s eyes light up with an idea- clearly an idea of how smart and businessman-like Garfield is!- and he turns away for a moment, brandishing a sapphire and the Flaming Raging Poisoning Sword of Doom. “Ok… ok, um. I need a moment to myself, to really think about this. Give me just a second.” 

Garfield feels his chest swell with pride. This deal is clearly going in his favor. 

“Ok Garfield, you win. Fine. Here is the Raging Poisoning Sword of Doom,” Taako announces, voice choked with obvious heartbreak. 

It was so close. The sword. “My sweet! My love! You’re giving it back to me?” 

“Yes, you can carry it for me.” 

Garfield takes the sword from him, holding it reverently in his grasp. Taako’s short friend cries out in horror, but Taako whispers something about gloating- obviously over how talented Garfield is!- and then turns back to him. “Here we go. I am going - this hurts, ‘cause it’s just some blood. It’s probably coagulated, um, but here. Please, go ahead and give me some blood. Of his. Magnus’s blood. And you can have the sword.” 

He had grand plans for Magnus’s body. An escape, power, an army, godhood, murder. But maybe… Maybe the best use of it was to help a friend. 

“A deal’s a deal!” Garfield announces, tossing Taako the keys to the building. He didn’t need any of his merchandise anymore- he had his prized weapon and a friend. “You’ll find it in the back room. It’s one of those. Well I’m - I’m gonna go before you change your mind. Thanks, sucker!” 

Garfield casts Dimension Door and disappears from the Fantasy Costco and the moon base for good. 

He lands in lands unknown, a few spells later, clutching his prized sword with his catlike grin firmly planted across his face. He thinks over all that he’d achieved with the cloning chamber, with Magnus Burnsides and his terrible blood management. In the end, all it had accomplished was to bring himself back to where he’d began, with the sword that had proven to him in the first place just what he was capable of, you know, as a businessman. 

Perhaps… there was a lesson in all of this, he thinks. On what truly matters. 

He stares down at the sword, and his reflection beams back at him in the reflection. 

Maybe the best deal he ever got through was coming into this multiverse as himself. Garfield, the Deals Warlock. 

His reflection suddenly grows dim in comparison to the green sheen that sparkles around the sword. He thinks on that- how he began this journey bathed in green light and will now end it in the same way- until he’s jarred from his pondering by a quiet pop. 

With quiet horror, he stares down at his now-empty hands. His reflection is gone with the Flaming Raging Poisoning Sword of Doom. 

He clenches his hands into fists and screams.


End file.
